Shoulder to the Wheel
by punk-rock-yuppie
Summary: The first time Rafael Barba lays eyes on Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr, the latter is in a garishly bright muscle tank and ratty, well-worn cargo shorts.


The first time Rafael Barba lays eyes on Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr, the latter is in a garishly bright muscle tank and ratty, well-worn cargo shorts. The tank top is tie-dyed a mix of blue, pink, and purple, with white blocky letters on the front that proudly proclaim _'TWO PAIRS BEAT A STRAIGHT.'_ Accompanying the ridiculous garb is a firmly set sneer and tired eyes, and red marks around his wrists from his time spent struggling against handcuffs. It paints quite a picture, Rafael must admit.

It gets even more interesting when the kid opens his mouth, revealing a thick Staten Island accent that lends an almost amusing edge to every word.

"Oh boy, here we go."

Rafael stops as the door to the interrogation room claps shut behind him. Rather than replying, he arches an eyebrow at his client.

His client who rolls his eyes in response. "Look at you, all high n'mighty, comin' to help out little ol' me."

He speaks with such familiarity, however laced in animosity as it is, that Rafael has to stop and consider the man again. Rafael runs through the admittedly short list of people he knows, just to make sure that this client isn't someone he's met before. The tone of his voice, though sharp, almost crashes like a faded memory lapping at the hems of Rafael's thoughts. After a few moments of silent contemplation, Rafael is quite certain he doesn't know Dominick Carisi, not even distantly. Maybe it's just a Staten Island thing, Rafael wonders.

Again, he doesn't directly respond. Instead he steps more fully into the room and slips his briefcase into the table in the middle of the room. He takes a seat across from his client, and is just about to finally open his mouth when Carisi cuts across him again.

"Look, I know my rights okay?"

Sure, like Rafael hasn't heard that before.

But then Carisi launches into another rant—Rafael sees many more of these in his immediate future—and to Rafael's immense surprise, it's not bullshit. Carisi _does_ know his rights; he knows the ins and outs of the law fairly well and speaks with a quick wit that reminds Rafael of being younger, fresh out of Harvard and eager. Rafael relaxes into the unpleasant cool rigidity of the chair and lets Carisi tire himself out.

It happens, eventually. Rafael listens with rapt attention, though he keeps a cool front. Eventually, with a heaving chest, Carisi trails off.

"Right," Rafael speaks slowly. He pulls out a notepad and pen from his briefcase and sets them both on the table. He looks long and hard at his client. "You do realize that if you cooperate, this will be over fairly quickly."

Carisi scoffs, and Rafael bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking. "I don't want _quick_ , I want my day in court. No one was getting violent, there was no reason for them to start hauling us off in cuffs."

Rafael agrees, and there's a plethora of footage from on-lookers' cellphones that support Carisi's statement.

"I understand."

"Do you?" Carisi fires back immediately. "You _understand_ , huh?" He slams a fist on the table. "So you know what it's like to be looked at like a freak for something like who y'wanna _date_? You know what's like to get shoulder-checked constantly just 'cause you're not afraid of being _proud_?"

That quells Rafael, just a bit. True, he doesn't understand that, exactly. "I—?"

"You _don't_ have a damn idea what this is like. It's not even about me! I can handle it! I've been out since I was a damn kid and I've been dealing with bullshit ever since—just 'cause I can handle it doesn't mean everyone else should hafta." Carisi is on the verge of seething, and distantly Rafael thinks it's a good look on him. Righteous and powerful suits Carisi, in the weirdest way. "Do you know how old some of those kids are? They're fuckin' teenagers! They weren't doing anything wrong 'cept being themselves!"

Rafael finally finds his voice again (and isn't that a hoot, some lanky guy from Staten Island has reduced Rafael Barba to near speechlessness) and interrupts in the time it takes for Carisi to take a breath. "I do understand. I understand that you and the other people at the rally did nothing wrong. That's why I'm here." Part of it, at least. "And I do know what it's like to have people trying to tear you down for your sexuality."

Rafael finally looks up from his notepad, still blank, and levels Carisi with a sharp stare. It's not a glare, but it's close to a challenge. When Carisi doesn't retort, Rafael makes to fill the silence. "I came out late in my career, but that hasn't stopped certain people from trying to use it against me. I may not have had to deal with bullies in school," and god that sounds juvenile, "but I have had to deal with them, in other ways."

Carisi looks suspicious. "I didn't know there were any openly queer people in the DA's office."

Rafael huffs a small laugh. "I don't go broadcasting it every chance I get, but it's not a secret, either. I don't pretend to be someone I'm not, if that's what you're thinking." Rafael feels the sudden urge not only to connect with Carisi, but to impress him. To make him _see_ that Rafael _does_ understand. As the silence stretches between them, Rafael again takes it upon himself to fill the quiet.

"Moving on," he says pointedly, "I'm well aware of the facts behind the case. There is plenty to support you and the other people who were taken in." Rafael sets his pen down and laces his fingers in his lap. "Are you finished with your whole…spiel?" Rafael asks with a put upon sneer though his tone is light enough to be a tease.

"It's not a spiel," Carisi mumbles as his eyes drop. Like a switch is flipped, Carisi relaxes and the built up rage fades from his frame. "So, uh, you're really out n'you still have a job?"

Rafael doesn't bother pointing out that he tried to steer away from this subject. The case at hand is simple, open and shut, so why not indulge Carisi a little longer? It sets off a thrill in his chest, something like exhilaration and _god_ , when did Rafael get so old that chatting with a guy fifteen years his senior get to be the highlight of his day?

"Counselor?"

Rafael blinks. "I am out, yes. I'm gay."

Carisi 'ahs' in understanding. "M'bisexual."

Rafael looks at the tank top hanging off Carisi's frame. "I never would've known."

Carisi doesn't retort angrily, rather he grins bright and even laughs. "Yeah, never exactly been shy about it."

"So you said," Rafael observes. "I will need to go over your official statement, just in case. I don't see this mess ever actually going to trial. It'll get dismissed."

Carisi looks put out, but he nods. "Figured. Just means it'll happen again six months from now." His expression brightens again and turns enticingly wicked. "Hopefully I won't hafta wait that long to see you again."

This time, Rafael raises both his eyebrows in surprise. "I'm fifteen years older than you," is what he replies with.

Carisi scoffs. "Please, like that matters." Carisi settles his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands. "Call me Sonny."

Rafael lets the silence balloon until Carisi starts to falter just slightly. When a look of confusion starts to flicker across his features and Rafael can see Carisi mentally going through their entire encounter, Rafael finally speaks up.

"Call me Rafael."


End file.
